


Forgive me father, for I have sinned.

by Rockhop233



Category: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF) - Fandom, mcyt
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Christianity, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fire, Fluff and Angst, God - Freeform, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Manipulation, Physical Abuse, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Soft Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Soft GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), idk how to tag im really sorry, no beta we die like men, religious trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:21:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28975029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rockhop233/pseuds/Rockhop233
Summary: George comes from a devoted catholic family, he knows it’s inevitable to keep his love and sin hidden, but he’s trying.(chapter fixes/ small add ons just added)
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 137
Kudos: 426





	1. The birth of the fire

**Author's Note:**

> hii !! so i’d like to clarify that i have a bad homelife and i was taken out of school at first grade and havent gotten a good education since so please spare the bad grammar !! this is definitely a way for me to teach myself and express my own battle with homophobia <3 criticism is welcome !!
> 
> (a/n 2/21, newly updated! fixed some grammar and added a couple more things, no major changes but definitely some different stuff :)! )

George came from a devoted Catholic family, every aspect of their life had something to do with their relationship with God. It was everywhere, their house, his school, the church they served every Sunday. He didn't hate it, to him this was normal. It shaped his life. Their faith never weakening even when hard times came about. 

Most would see it as a blessing, yet, George always found it being a large curse.

He thought he was normal, or how normal was explain to him. He was meant to be like his father. strong, masculine, god-loving, and passionate. George tried. He always tried to be just like him. There was a certain issue that stopped it all. 

He did everything he was supposed to yet, God still cursed him with this. The thing that made him different, the thing that changed everything. The thing that's seen as the worst curse, sickness, and sin in his very own household. 

He was always taught to stay away from homosexuals, that they were gross, aggressive, they'd hurt you if you got too close. Little did his family know they were always too close to the sin, their son being the body that fuels it. The fire spreading across his body, sinful attraction filling his stomach as he looks at one with lust, only for it not to be in the normal way. 

His mother, a conservative, powerful, and caring woman. She was the second most important thing to George. Always stood up for him when his father's insults would get too rough, wiping the tears from his eyes as she told him it would be better tomorrow. How all of that would change over one simple sin. 

The softest sin of all, love. What's so sick about love, isn't it something we all crave? A life without love is a life without hope, joy, and passion, why are there restrictions for those who want to show it? 

The church shunning those who seek help, he watched people like him go in and out, trying to escape their hell just to be turned away.  
He never understood why God did this, he thought he made no mistakes. Shunning those for taking their own life under the name of sin, yet shunning them before they can make their own decisions. 

Was he in hell before he was put onto the earth? Is earth his shameful waiting cell before they ship him off into something worse? 

They always say this is a test, yet, it feels as if he chose not to study. It feels as if he's constantly watching a ticking clock, waiting for the day that it finally runs out. He was always taught to be excited for death, to sit with the lord, worship in the place his soul was created in. They yet to figure out the corruption that trails behind him. 

He never understood why they treated this as a mortal sin, it was always said to him that they were all the same. Love thy neighbor. Why doesn't that apply when they love the same sex, why do we shun them and lock them away into the dark abyss of the world? If they're so sick, why do we leave them stranded? Do not all sick people deserve treatment? The church always being the hospital of the hurt, where is that doctor's oath to always heal?   
  
George was one of the sick. He used to pray every day to be cured, knees digging into the hard floor, bent over his bed as he clasped his hands so tightly together it hurt. He begged he begged for years until he realized it would never work. He tried to fight it, the temptations, the fire burns throughout his veins. The shame he felt as he let himself give in to these temptations. 

He was doing so well until he found himself falling for a certain friend. His new secret boyfriend, Clay.

Clay lives down the street, he's the only friend his parents have deemed "holy" enough for him to be around. Clay didn't believe as George did. Clay couldn't care less, George prays for his soul every night. Apart from him feeling a need to fill Clay's place in for him. 

He prays for their relationship, he prays that maybe his parents will change. He prays for the fire to not burn Clay as it does him. His love for Clay is so deep it burns. He feels as if he's taking the pain for Clay so he doesn't have to, he would take all the pain for him. The burn comforts him late at night when he can't feel the large tan hands discreetly hold his own two. 

He was always drawn to the boy, and when Clay whispered those sinful confessions of childish love in his ears he couldn't help but melt. He had never felt the burn so bad 'til then. 

They were 15 when their love sparked, it feels like a forest fire surrounding them now at 17. The memories replay in Georges head of their late-night cuddles, the secret kisses, the heat of arousal pooling around George as Clay kisses down his body while they were home alone. 

Almost two years of a secret relationship, a relationship filled with such passion that it could spread to everyone around them. The lingering gazes in the building of their school, hands brushing, the palm over his mouth, muffling his moans in his bedroom late at night as his lover explores his body in the most unholy ways. 

The cross always looking over the two boys, George silently hopes it protects them. Protects their love, their compassion. He hopes that it protects them after they argue about coming out, the horror they could face even if they tried to show who they truly were. He knows it's inevitable, he won't be able to keep this secret forever. Only so long until he bursts into flames before everyone's eyes. 

The fire will burn the forest, one of whom many live in. Until then, forgive me father, for I have sinned.


	2. the fire spreads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it burns worse than ever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hii !! feeling v self conscious abt this chap HAHA didnt have much time to write and couldnt run it through a grammar check :( super sorry !! thank you

Clay's family can see the ashes that fall off of the boys when they're together. 

Their suspicion of the two boys growing daily as they watch the two grow closer, the spark growing more noticeable every time they share a glance. 

They see Clay's protection over the small boy down the street. From small things, like moving George before he got hit with a ball, to going into his house at 4 AM and walking out with a teary-eyed boy, clutching the arms around him when the police got called 'cause the screaming got just a little too loud. 

Pressing warm washcloths to the pale skin when his father's fist hit too hard. Taking him into his room, promising George he'll always protect him, that he'll always be there. The burn trailing with every swipe of his skin. 

Clay's family isn't the same as George's, they go to a different place of worship. Theirs focusing on acceptance. 

George's family hated it. His father always making remarks about how "Such a strong boy like him should go to a real church.” George silently disagrees in his head, not letting himself dwell on the thought of Clay having the possibility of thinking like his own family. 

It scares him, he fears one day Clay will switch and notice how filled with sin George is. Clay had always been there just in time, always saving him from the worst. From the times he was terrified of himself, ready to act on the sin worse than the very own he lives with. 

He was the only one who was able to calm George with just a single look, especially on the day when he gets called gay one too many times.   
They sense it, everyone can see directly through George, and not in the way he wishes they did. 

He wishes he was invisible, wishes he could go unnoticed by the ones who surround him. He wishes the only one who could see him was Clay, and sometimes God. 

He looks up, praying this will end soon. He watches as the next newly-outed gay kid gets kicked out, only so long until that's him. They can feel it, as if the sin radiates off of the boy, trying to fight into the skin of others. 

The day his parents got his testosterone levels checked after they saw the boys a bit too close. The days they'd make him sit and pray until they felt that he was telling the truth. He never told Clay about those days, fearful it would make Clay pour water over their fire. 

He's so tired of living in constant fear, it seems that he was terrified of everything he had to be around, terrified of the day when someone says the wrong thing. Terrified of the day when he doesn't deny when someone calls him gay fast enough, or the day when he accidentally speaks above a whisper when sitting next to the one he loves. 

A piece of him thinks that it can't come fast enough. The irrational side of him, the fed-up and angry side. The part of him that's filled with such resentment that he doesn't care about the consequences that could tread behind. 

He knows it's unrealistic, but one can only hope. He feels as if a part of him is fading away, the need for accepting God into his life feels fake. He's trying too hard, only one can feel so lost. 

He makes his way to Clay's house after a specifically hard day, as he gets greeted at the door by a pair of warm arms and a soft smile. The house is empty, leaving him a Clay alone, for them to do anything in the small hours they have. 

Being in a secret relationship made him notice how valuable this time was, a time where they can be as domestic as they want without a worry of getting caught. 

He accepts the chaste kisses that get pressed to his lips lightly, smiling into it. They make their way into Clay's room, a room he's seen so many times, yet, it always feels more welcoming than the last. 

The room that's always protected them, hid their secrets within the thin walls, never catching soot from the fire that's exposed to them.   
He sits next to the tan boy, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. Chest closing with an ache as he looks over at his boyfriend, looking at his phone with a peaceful expression. 

He infected Clay with this illness, this virus that overtook his body on a day that he doesn't know. He made Clay like this changing him to fit for his selfishness. 

That's what his father had always said, that homosexuality was a sickness, only to be transferred by the ones who force it. He doesn't ever remember forcing Clay, as this thought started the biggest argument that they had ever had.   
  
"George, you did not infect me", Clay says, the shocked expression displayed on his face at the shock of the words his lover had been saying, a simple, “what’s wrong” causing this. 

This isn't the first time they've had   
this talk, but this time it's louder, more than just a conversation. 

"Yes, I did!" George starts, feeling his eyes well with tears. "I corrupted you, I made you sick," he says in a quiet voice, seeming like a glass that was slowly cracking. 

"George, you know that's not true," Clay starts, "We were born this way, we can't control this! I don't care if you infected me, all I know is that I love you and nothing will ever change that!"

"How? I've done this to you! They all say that I don't wanna hurt you" George says, finally breaking down. 

All the built-up emotions pouring out at once, as the burn spreads throughout his chest.   
George watches Clay's eyes glass over with sorrow, it hurts. Their flames touching the top of their throats, begging to be fueled by the air fanning it with every inhale. 

George's arms wrap around Clay's middle, taking him by surprise. George was never one with physical affection unless it was Clay. It terrified him, scared to risk infecting more than he already had. His body shaking, his tears leaving wet patches on Clay's t-shirt. 

"Shh," Clay coos, rubbing his hand in soothing circles on Georges back. His sobs just harden as he tries to mutter out unneeded apologies. 

He hates Clay seeing him like this, so broken. The fire burning dark blisters into his throat as he heaves, it burns. Everything burns, the arms around him, his frail body, it all burns. His eyes burn the worst as he opens them, looking directly into the light that hangs from his ceiling. 

He can feel the love around him, building walls so high up for nothing else to get in. The arms around him never loosening, never failing to make him feel safe even in the darkest times. 

"I love you too," The small boy says quietly, muttering the three words that he's always feared. He pulls away looking into the green eyes in front of him, watching a tear slip from Clay's eye. 

They're both so afraid, afraid that these fragile times of intimacy will be cut short, that someone will break down their walls and see what happens on the inside. It feels like so much to wish for the simplest moments, wishing he could fall asleep in the strong arms of the other. 

He wants to run away, somewhere far away. He doesn't feel protected, he feels his faith slowly flowing out of his body. 

Tiredness fills his core as his sobs slow, as he slides out of Clay's arms and onto the ground. 

"George," Clay says, his voice breaking as he knows what George is doing. Looking down at his clasped hands, he prays for something, he doesn't know what. But until the next time, forgive me father, for I have sinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading !! kudos and definitely comments are what keep my motivation up so thank you for all the kind words !!


	3. a waste of breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the ones around them harming their relationships as clay fears george has doubts about their relationship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feeling iffy about this chap, if its bad please tell me and i’ll rewrite it !! im trying to put out the best story i can with my lack of education:))

Clay hates watching George pray. It reminds him of the lust-filled nights, touching each other in ways that nobody would approve. George would always end it by praying, claiming it was just his nightly routine. 

They both knew this was a lie. George only seemed to pray after the light touches the boys share. The soft lips, the warm embrace. Especially the moments after his body fills with pleasure, leaving him to cling to the blond. 

it would always end the same way. 

They'd argue. Arguing that George does not feel shame about them, that he knows that this isn't wrong. He swears he knows. That their love is perfect, that their love is just as worthy as his parents. 

They both know he's lying. The conversation would always end in angry huffs. Lying back to back, scared that even the slightest glance will send their walls tumbling down. 

One conversation always making its way to the other, as the fire around them irrupts. The outburst sends angry tears, harsh breaths as soot covers the room in a thick layer, sucking all the life in their lungs out. 

They're suffocating. They can't control the smoke that they breathe in when their fire spreads, the same fire that will soon coat the lungs of the ones around them. Broken sobs and painful wheezes as they try to suck in the last bit of clean air, as they watch others around them breathe fine. They envy the clean air that others suck in, wishing their pain would fade away. 

This is hell, their personalized hell. The hell where they can only feel the heat that surrounds them. Yet, they'd both rather be here than anywhere else. Their hearts beating for each other, as they fight for survival in this harsh fire. A life without each other wouldn't be a life. A life that even if the fire rose above their heads forcing them to clutch onto one another, they would still always end out right where they are. 

Their sick love, one simple sin that could ruin everything they have. They would both never change it. Even while watching his lover on the floor, clinging to the last bit of faith he has left to give. Fighting the sin, while indulging in it at the same time. 

It leaves Clay to wonder. His mind racing as it hits every bad thought, rough cries leaving his chest as he sees the regret pour out of George. It causes ulcers in his stomach, for the fire to reach deeper into his veins. 

The room feels as if it's shrinking. The walls closing in slowly, compacting their lungs even more. His mind is getting so loud, it's overbearing. He doesn't want to watch, he can't watch this anymore. 

He loves George too much to see him in pain. He feels so worthless, not knowing what to do next. It's so silent, it's eating at his skin. 

Clay's voice coming out in a rough whisper. "I can't be with someone who regrets being with me." Saying it for not anyone else to hear. He knows that failed when George's head shoots up, looking at him with tear-filled eyes as this night only grows rougher, and rougher. 

"What?" George says, hands coming undone, as they shakily grip the sides of his shirt. It was always something he did. Always gripped something when a moment of fear struck him. 

His knees painfully digging into the ground as fear spreads throughout his chest. 

"I can't be with someone who regrets being with me," Clay says, only slightly louder. A pained expression taking over his face as he sees the panic finally set it. 

"No, no, no, Clay I don't regret you, or us! Oh my God, please believe me!" George pleads to grab Clay's hands in his own as if he's worshipping the boy. 

“How should I believe you? We do this every night, George, you’re killing yourself!” Clay sobs out. 

“Clay, please, ” George says, his head falling into the tan hands. 

This is the worst it's ever gotten to. The tension of the day built up in one room, one room trying to withstand all the emotions kept inside of it. He listens to George plead, begging for Clay to listen. He tries, he wants to listen. He wants to hide George away, making sure he never gets hurt. He hates seeing this, wishing it would all just go away. 

Clay looks to his side, jaw clenched. The tendons of his neck sticking out ever so slightly. He’s angry. Not so much at George, but at everyone who’s made them believe this. They’re not sick, he didn't randomly develop any symptoms. 

He remembers sitting in church, listening to the same useless words George worships. They’re not 9 anymore, what they’ve learned is so engraved in their mind it controls their subconscious. Their brain wishing a painful fire upon them. 

It burns, it always burns. The walls around them cracking, one wrong move sending everything tumbling down. The shards of rock having just enough power to burst their skin, everything around them being a hazard. They have never cared much about their safety and they’ve proved it. 

They don’t want to scream anymore. They barely know what they’re screaming at, at this point. It’s not always each other, sadly they’re just the two things that can communicate within the room. 

This isn't them, the fighting, the scared glances, this is what people want them to be. Even though it's not known about them, they can feel the beliefs even before anything has even been saying. They can feel the judgment, the screams, the pain that will come with just their innocent high school love. Maybe in another life, they’re accepted, but that even seems too unlikely to be true. Their hope, faith, and trust slowly rushing out of their body, growing quicker by the minute. 

They watch others around them publicly sharing their affection, without a single word against them. They want that, they want to share their love and make it known. To show that they're just as normal, they love the same as the others around them. Even if they don’t believe that themselves. It pains them that nobody would listen. 

They're so in love that it kills them, slowly killing their relationship with it. This can't be what breaks them, they won't let it. They're both too broken to notice how this is an easy fix. He's never felt this way about anyone, he doesn't want to watch this. 

He wants to hold the crying boy, take him in his arms and never let go. So he does. Clay reaches his arms around the boy, his very own knees crashing into the hardwood of the floor. Even in times of hatred, they can never turn each other down. 

Their bodies fitting perfectly together as if they were made to be there. The fire coming back to life, their love cooling them off. Finding comfort in each other's breathing. Perhaps they are made to be here, but why are they being punished like this? 

They're alive. They're alive, even if they're breaking in front of each other. Their skin feeling as if it's falling off, sweat clinging to them trying to cool the burn. 

"Don't leave, stay, please stay," Clay begs into the smaller one's neck. His lungs burning as he breathes in a small wheeze. 

He needs him, if it could only be him and George he would make it that way. He'd do anything without a second thought. 

Even after every fight, every argument that makes dust fall from their walls, it never fully breaks. Their wall withstands the weight put on it, even if they have to build their pillars to hold it up. They'd try to balance it on their back before it fell, even if it was killing them. 

"I'm not, I'm never leaving," He whispers into the blond's ear. 

"Stay the night," Clay says, a dangerous thing to ask for. It's not as if George had never stayed over at Clay's, but they'd never clung to each other like this. They need to be wrapped together overpowering any cognitive thought. 

"Okay," George gives in, he knows he shouldn't, but he can't seem to say no. He'd say yes to anything if it meant staying in Clay's arms like this. His wet tears soaking Clay’s shoulder. Guilt fills his stomach as he realizes fully what they’re doing, it's always him who starts this. He doesn’t wanna feel this way, pushing his church's words on Clay. It’s selfish for him to stay, but he can’t leave. He doesn’t care, he wants to run out in Clay’s arm’s the moment they can. 

"I wish you'd never leave, that I could just keep you all for myself," Clay says, backing his head and looking George in his eyes. Even hysterical he still sees all of Clay’s beauty, feeling his love as hands ground him. 

'That's a bit selfish of you," George says, wiping his wet eyes. He just wants to stop crying, please God let him stop. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone else, just make it end. 

"If it meant being able to stay like this with you, then I'm the most selfish man in the world," Clay says, his voice dropping to such a loving tone that it's almost overwhelming. A sob leaves the smaller boy’s chest, his eyes close, the vision of hell filling his eyes. 

"I love you" The words fall out of the blond's mouth with ease. A loving palm comes up to rest on his cheek, stroking the soft skin with his thumb. 

"I love you too," The brunette says, leaning into the comforting palm. He shouldn’t give in, he should save Clay before it's too late, but he won't. He’s selfish, but too in love to care, at least sometimes. 

Forgive me father, but I'm not sure if I have sinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading !! you all mean sm ily c:))


	4. the day before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tears fell, their day short hours left for them to heal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi ! this is a filler chapter :(( im sorry if its bad !! if it is just tell me !!

The boys finally pull apart at the sound of a car entering the driveway, his Clay's mom and sister coming home. Their eyes not so red, but their bodies are still scolding. Smoke circling them as they walk through it, breaking the protective circle around them. Cool air coating the sweat on their skin causing the boys to shiver. 

They walk out of Clay's room, feeling more vulnerable than ever. Emotions still fresh on their face, the sour words still lying on their tongue. 

Walking down the stairs, the air tenses as the boys make eye contact with Clay's mother. Clay's mother was just about George's second one, always letting him stay when the nights got too bad. She treated him as she treated Clay. Took the boys to school, helped them with homework, all the things his mother couldn't provide. It would be strange if he didn't feel this way after coming over every day for 15 years. Disappointment still fills him when Clay’s parents don’t notice. 

The feeling of comfort starting to feel painfully overwhelming. Wishing the slight terror would vanish from the air. It seems like Clay's mom can feel it, a look of confusion growing on her face. His hands clutch his shirt, wishing he wasn’t known so well by everyone in this room. They all notice the nervous reaction, one slowly rising on Clay’s face. 

"Is everything alright?" She says softly, the motherly tone making George want to puke. 

"Yes," The boys say in unison. A laugh lightly forcing its way through George's mouth, leaving others even more confused. 

Clay soon takes a deep breath before speaking, "Can George stay the night, please?" 

George scans the room with his eyes, none of Clay's siblings surround them making this moment feel much more intense. 

Clay has a brother and a sister, both younger than them. They like messing with George as if they were another sibling they had, it made him feel so much more welcome into this house than his own. 

Dreading if Clay's mom says no, terrified of everything around him. he feels as if he's so close the breaking again. Tears brimming his eyes, he has to keep it in, he can’t break in front of someone else. 

"Of course," She says, the boy releasing a sigh of relief, that alone adding more suspicion. "Is everything alright at home?" 

Everyone knows George’s home life. The entire neighborhood usually huddled in a drive-way, watching scenes quickly unfold as if it’s a movie. 

"Yes!" George quickly interjects. "Everything is fine-- at home, yes, everything's fine. Just don't feel like going back" 

George's mom gives a warm smile. Taking George into a hug, the loving touch making every emotion come back. He did not intend to cry, every emotion growing too large for his small body to handle. Tears flooding out of his eyes at a rapid pace, not slowing for long minutes. A surprised gasp leaving the woman's lips as she consoles the boy. 

Whispering small words of apologies as she quickly dismisses him. He wishes it was his mother. He wishes that his own could hold him like this. Wishing she could make him feel protected in the times where he felt exposed, exposed to the harsh fire that catches onto his clothes and leaves him with deadly burns. Wishing she could be the one to tend to the burns after they strike his skin. He hates her for this but is too scared to admit it. That will never happen, he's stuck here crying into his boyfriend's mother's neck wishing it was his own. 

The tears eventually stop as he calms down, he just needs to sleep. He's so exhausted. The tiredness showing on his face as fully stands. He knows he looks like a wreck, his face probably red and swollen.

He looks at Clay, looking at his pained expression. He feels disgusting. He’s crying over a sin one person know’s about, or at least who he’s voiced it to. 

Clay grabs his hand before speaking, "Let's go to our room," He says with a frown. He lightly pulls the boy into his room, or their room as Clay calls it. 

"I have no clothes" George mutters out as if he doesn't live four houses down. 

"You know you can have anything in here," Clay says with a gentle voice. 

"Nothing fits! You're a giant" George says crossing his arms. 

"I'm not even that tall, you're just short," Clay says, chucking a shirt at George's face. The blond just wants to see George smile, anything to make him happy. 

George scoffs, catching the shirt in his hands. His hands sliding to the bottom of his shirt, taking it off in one swift movement. 

He catches Clay's eyes. The Green eyes piercing into his skin as a blush spreads across his cheeks. 

"Clay," George says, the red spreading to his chest. Throwing the shirt to the floor as he returns Clay’s gaze. 

"Hm?" Clay says, walking towards him with an unreadable look. 

"You look like you want to devour me," George says, in a quiet voice as the taller one comes closer. 

Clay places his hands on the other bare hips, looking into the boy’s dark eyes. George lets out a light laugh before he leans in to the other's lips. They pull away, breathing slow as their lips still slightly touch. 

“What will make you happy?” Clay whispers, not expecting a response. 

“You,” George says, dropping his head onto Clay’s chest. 

“We can’t do that right now.” Clay says, rubbing George’s arms gently. 

George snorts, slapping Clay’s bicep lightly. Leaning in for another kiss as knocks hit Clay's door, they pull away quickly. 

"Hold on! George is changing!" Clay yells. He doesn't try to hide the disappointed look on his face. George quickly throws on the shirt that had been discarded on the floor before he had even tried to put it on. The large shirt coming far down on his legs. He finds comfort in Clay's shirt, feeling as if it’s Clay wrapped around him. He finishes changing, Clay opens the door to his brother standing holding a thick blanket. 

"Mom said to bring this to you," He says, handing Clay an extra blanket for George before walking away quickly. Clay scoffs as he throws the blanket on the bed. George jumps on Clay's bed, wrapping himself in the soft blanket. He’s been here so many times, but he can’t help but feel his stomach twist when Clay stares at him, especially as he lies on the taller’s bed. 

Clay quickly changes. Sliding behind the smaller boy, wrapping an arm around his waist. He lightly kisses the boy’s neck. This was Clay's way of apologizing. He's always been one for physical touch, always hugging someone or something. George was the exact opposite. Avoiding all touch at any cost, except when it came to Clay. Clay was slowly changing him in ways he'd never expect. It’s easier for him to open up now, he’ll finally talk back to someone after years of mentoring from Clay. 

"I love you," George says, usually not being the one to speak the words first. His hands resting over the larger ones, lightly squeezing. 

"I love you too," Clay says, nuzzling into the pale neck. He feels the tiredness creep upon him, but he can’t bring himself to move. 

The boys fall asleep like this, not meaning to. Their bodies pressed together, unaware of the following events that will happen when they wake up. Until then, forgive me father, for I have started to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for reading !! ily u all tysm for the nice messages !!


	5. the wall falls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> their wall falls down, and the fire spread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi ! if this is bad tell me !! im sorry its not super firey based

Warm breath tickling his collarbone. The boys wrapped in each other, stuck in a deep sleep. The dings from their phones eventually wake Clay up. Removing his arm that was firmly wrapping around George's waist as he sits up, sliding the boy slowly off of his shoulder. 

The open windows showing the dark outside. He’s confused as to why his phone is going insane. Leaning over and grabbing it, opening it as the light burns his freshly opened eyes. 

It's 5:30 in the morning. Lightly scanning the screen as more messages flood in, a confused look growing on his face as they flood in rapidly. He opens his messages clicking on the first one he sees, it's from his old best friend. 

From Nick: Dude have you seen ur school’s Twitter? 

From Nick: Are you okay man? This must be fucking rough, if you need somewhere to stay you can always come here. 

A scared feeling taking over his body, leaving him frozen. Nick hasn't texted him in 2 years, they had a falling out over George. They were all a group until George's family started to hate Nick. A trouble-maker, a faithless boy who was only looking for fun. They told George he couldn't be around Clay if he still hung out with Nick. Clay chose George, leaving Nick behind. Their relationship collapsed as they avoided each other at all costs. Nick understood, but he doesn't want Clay to know that. 

Clay open's Twitter, seeing the rapid mentions rolling through his notifications. He clicks one, scrolling up to see the tweet. His heart stops. A picture of him a George wrapped in each other's arms, a peaceful look on both of their faces as they sleep. Another of them kissing, their hideout in the woods being exposed. He feels sick, as he jumps out of bed and rushing to the bathroom before letting the content of his stomach rise. The loud steps waking George up. He sits up quickly, walking to the bathroom to find Clay on his knees, head resting in his arms as he leans against the porcelain bowl. Quickly getting on his knees need to Clay, rubbing the boy’s back. 

"Are you okay?" George says, voice full of worry. 

Clay looks at him as his stomach twists again. This is the last time he'd see George in any peaceful way. This will crush him, his parents, and most importantly their relationship. He would've never gone to sleep knowing he'd wake up in the rubble. 

"Did you check your phone?" He says, voice hoarse. 

How did their wall fall? It felt as if they spent all day building it, making sure it was secure for moments like this. 

"No?" George says in a cautious voice, "I got worried, wanted to make sure you were okay," The boy says, wiping the grime from his eyes, his hands quickly trail down to grip the large shirt. 

Clay flushes the toilet as he stands up, legs feeling as if he just ran a marathon. He opens his mouth to speak, feeling as if his words are stuck. 

He walks back to his room at a fast pace, George trailing quickly behind. Clay grabs his phone, handing it to George with the tweet on full display. His heart feels as if it's physically breaking, getting torn from his chest as he watches George's expression change. 

Sobs wreck through Clay, legs going weak as he sits on his bed. His hands find their way to hair, tugging lightly. Looking up at George, watching a silent tear go down his face. The boy goes to talk, rudely interrupted by the ring of his phone. It's his mother. Hands shaking as he grabs his phone, he stares down at the call coming through. Still in shock, as he declines the call. He knows his parents already know, the school board, everyone knows now. Barely morning but his life has now been forever changed. 

He looks at Clay before walking in between the boy's legs, grabbing the sides of the blond's face. Looking him directly in the eye, wiping the tears with his thumb. He's not wailing as he expected he would be, he can't. A piece of him says to stay in the moment, to be with Clay for the last time before his parents would tear them apart. The two years of secret love finally seeping through the cracks of the walls around them. The fire spreading into the forest, lighting the trees, the houses, setting it all to burn. 

"What's gonna happen?" Clay says, the pain showing in his voice. 

"I don't know," George says. Clay lets his head drop into the small of George's shoulder, looking for safety in the fire. 

"What if we can't see each other anymore?" Clay says, feeling warm tears spill out of his eyes. 

This was home, George is his home. The fire could burn down the wood, and all the furniture, but never the core of what home truly was. 

"We'll make it work, we always do," George says, holding the boys head to his chest. 

"What if we can't" Clay sobs out, "What if they force us apart?" 

"They can't do that, we'll always make it back to each other" George says, kissing the blonds hair. "We always do," He says, holding Clay close. He wishes they could go hide, run away to some deserted land where only they stayed. 

One of Clay's siblings walk-in, ruining their slightly peaceful moment in this terrible time. His sister goes to open her mouth before Clay speaks over her.

"Get the fuck out," He says, the harshness in his voice explaining every emotion that he's feeling. 

"Clay I-" She starts before getting cut off. 

"Get the fuck out!" He says, his voice breaking mid yell. 

More doors open as his yell awoken more. George moves from in between Clay’s legs as his mother walks in, a shocked look on her face at Clay's outbreak, his father walking closely behind. Tiredness is still apparent on her face. Before she can speak, Clay stands up and shoves his phone in her hand. 

The shocked look only getting stronger, her thumb scrolling through the replies. She looks up, looking at both of the boys before looking back down, repeating this action until her mouth opens to speak. 

"Why'd you never tell us?" His mother says, her voice never sounding more genuine. 

The boys stay silent, scared that if they open their mouth the fire will spit in everyone's faces. George grabs his phone, looking at the messages highlighted on the front. People telling him not to come to school, not to leave his house, calling him disgusting, and just about every slur under the sun. Yet, George doesn't feel dirty. He hands his phone to Clay, who reads the messages and gives him a sympathetic look. 

"Can you guys just- get out, please?" Clay says tiredly. 

Everyone slowly makes their way out of the room, stepping over the rubble on the floor. The smoke filling the town as the word spread like wildfire. Their eyes lock, and for a minute it feels like everything is okay. 

"I have to go home," George says, breaking the silence. Dread fills both of their stomachs, they know what comes next. 

"No, No Geor-" 

"I have to Clay, it'll be okay," George says grabbing his phone. 

"What if they hurt you?" He says in a small voice, eyes watery. Even in a state of distress he still looks beautiful. 

"Will you be there to save me?" George says, a smile rising on his face. He doesn’t even know why he’s smiling.

"Of course," Clay says, taking George's hand and intertwining their fingers. 

George taking his free hand places it on the back of Clay's head as he leans in slowly, taking his lips in a desperate kiss. A kiss so passionate, their love getting poured into a wordless action. They know this would be the last time. 

George turns 18 in 8 long months, Clay in 5, they’ll have to find a way to survive in this fire. George dreads this. 8 months without lying in his arms, protecting him from the fire surrounding him. 8 months of smoke burning their eyes, gazes from long distances as they reach for that connection. 8 months of downtown payphones, fake accounts, distant loving even if they live on the same street. 

Their lips pull apart, their faces red and wet. The soot coating to the sweat on their skin, coughing as it dries their lungs out. George squeezes his hand one last time, trying to remember every callus, every vein that sticks out, every rigid in the creases on his fingers that are worn from holding up the broken wall. He goes to walk out, but a voice stops him. 

"George, my shirt," 

"I'm keeping it," George says, a small smile rising on his face. 

"I love you, I love you so much Georgie," Clay says, bottom lip trembling again as he fights to get his words out. 

"I love you too, this isn't over yet," George says, walking out. 

Walking down the stairs to find Clay's mom in the kitchen, she walks over and gives him a quick hug, not a word said but the action saying enough. 

He walks out of their front door, eyeing his house, and starts walking. He sees the lights on, a new bright sun hanging in the sky as the day he dreaded has come. He thinks of Clay, their soft memories comforting him, still slightly tasting him on his lips. Walking up to his front door, taking a deep breath before entering. 

Fuck you father, for I have not sinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ty for reading !! ily


	6. getting rebuilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> maybe everything will work out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was rereading my own story and im sorry for the spelling mistakes HAHA this was written at 7:55 in the morning for no reason 
> 
> there may not be an update for the weekend since i am a bit sick right now :(

Every memory floods back as he steps in his house, every screaming match, every hit, every slightly loving moment. This would not be one of those. 

The second his parents see him he'll be hit by a disgusting amount of water, desperately trying to pour out any fire that sparked, little do they know it's already burned half the city. 

His black lungs begging for air as he finally makes eye contact with them. They're in the kitchen, waiting for him. Apart from him says run, run away and hide, he doesn't listen. 

"Hi," He says. 

"Hi? That's all you have to say?" His mother says harshly. He could care less about what his father thinks, but the hate from his mother hurts almost as bad as the burns that cover half his body.

"I thought we raised you better than that, how could you chose this?" His father quickly adding his input. 

"You think id choose this?" George laughs, and it's a genuine laugh. "Yes, because id choose my parents hating me, probably getting kicked out of school, kept away from the love of my life" 

"Don't you dare call him that! He's manipulating you, he made you sick!" His father stands, drunk in anger instead of alcohol for once. 

"If anything I made him sick," George retorts.

"What's that supposed to mean?" His mom says slowly. She knows the answer, it's idiotic to waste the last bit of clean air she has asked it. 

"Everyone knew! You can't tell me you didn't, I know what you guys talk about! At church, in front of me in our own home, you know exactly what you're doing when you spread your homophobic -- bullshit" George stutters towards the end, questioning his strong language. He quickly learns that he doesn't care. 

"Don't talk to your mother like that!" His father yells the loudest. 

"Don't pretend you care now." He says coldly, not intending for it to slip out. 

"What?" His father says, slowly walking forward as if he's hunting down a small animal.

"You act as if this isn't the same woman you'd beat for a bottle, are you gonna do the same to me? Go ahead. I couldn't careless, try to beat the gay out of me. It'll never work, I'm not as weak as you." He says, the fire roaring over their very own home.

A harsh palm connects with the side of his face, his very own catching him on his hands and knees. Looking up, watching his father's fire try to take over his. He won't let it, he can't. He and Clay's fire is too harsh, too big for anyone to get in or out. Their fire will build new walls, new walls that surround them individually, the only ones allowed in being each other. Their love surrounding him now, adding a barrier of protection around his frail body. A slick aura that treats the burns, patching them up so it doesn't hurt to move. 

He looks up at his father, his body flushed with anger. He wonders if he's angrier about having a gay son, or the personal attack he endured. His mother wears a face of shock. The same look she had when he walked in, never leaving her face. 

"Are you proud of yourself?" His mother says, looking at her son slowly stand. The hand mark still predominate on his cheek. 

"Very," He says, returning the cold tone she has. Her eyes going wide, her mouth opens to speak, his father quickly interjects. 

"You're going to hell. You can still get saved" He says, grasping his son's shoulder.

"Will Clay be there?' He says, fighting a grin that desperately wants to come upon his face. 

"Yes! All of you sick people do! You can still get help, George" His father throws back. 

"Then there's no place id rather go," He says, finally letting that smile grow on his face. "If it meant being with him, id walk with him across the world" 

"You're sick, he doesn't love you! You're too ill to see, we can get you a doctor" His mother says. 

"You wouldn't know true love if it sat in front of you," He says, hatred filling his body as his fire splits to attack her. Her gasp ads a twinge of guilt to hit his stomach. He can't find himself to care. 

"You don't! Your childish love won't last, id is surprised if you made it a month! This isn't real, why can't you see that?" Her tone seems as if she's begging, begging for something that George doesn't want to ask. 

“Oh trust me, it’s been longer than two months.” George sneers. 

"How long then, hm? How long has this thing been going on?" She spits. 

"Two years," He says, a feeling of pride rise in his chest. He and Clay's fire growing over the years, strong enough to burn through anything so they can walkthrough. 

"You've been corrupted for two years?" His father says flabbergasted. 

"I've been corrupted for 17, you gave birth to a gay son," George says. He doesn't know where all of this is coming from, 17 years of anger flowing out of him. 

"Don't say that!" His father screams. 

"What? Does it make you feel bad that you made a child, just for it to get sent to hell? What a shame" He says, not meaning to use their faith to manipulate them into sadness. 

"Get out," HIs father says. 

"Wait, don't kick him out- he's just a child," His mother says, surprising Clay. 

"He's made his decisions it seems! He'll run himself to hell anyways." His father says. 

His mother shuts her mouth. She mouths an apology, George pretends to not see it. 

"How could you do this to us? You're so selfish, this is why you're sick." His father continues. 

"I'm not sick," He says. Not just saying that to his parents, but also himself. He knows Clay is right, that they're not sick. Neither of them pawned each other into this, it was a lucky coincidence. George would've never made it this far without Clay. If this was sick, he'd rather stay hooked up with an IV. 

"That's what God says," His father responds. 

"You don't know shit about what he would say!" He finally snaps. "You're not him! It's not like you speak to him every day, you wouldn't know! That's up to me and him, not you. This isn't your decision to make. If God appreciates love, then Clay and I have a golden ticket straight to him. You should worry about yourself, I can assure you I'm not worried for me." 

"Are you implying that I'm going to hell?" His father whispers terrifyingly. 

"You should've known the first time you hit your wife," He says, copying the tone. 

His mother stays quiet, hasn't muttered even a sound since her silent apology. He doesn't know how she feels, he can't tell since the look on her face is unreadable. 

"Get out, George. Leave, I don't want to see you," His father says, turning around, resting his arms on the marble counter behind him. 

"Finally we can agree on something," He says, running up to his room. 

He knows exactly where he can go. After this he can transfer schools, finally, go see Nick again, and most importantly show his love publicly to Clay. The tears he expected to come never came, only the shakes of anticipation as he packs. Packing the small things Clay has given him before his parents can break them, completely forgetting clothes exist. 

He doesn't feel the guilt, or the sadness that he thought he would. Pride fills his chest, as he can finally smile. After he quickly throws everything into his bag, he makes his way out of his room. A room that he can happily never see again. 

Quickly making his way down the stairs, looking at his parents that are still frozen in shock. Without a word, he walks out. Walks out into the empty street, the clock hitting 7:45 as the sun rains down on him. 

Walking down the street, bag in hand, he walks up to Clay's house. Knocking on it barely twice until the door swings open. It's Clay, stress showing on his features. He doesn’t know if something happened while he was gone, but smoke clouds his brain from clear thoughts. 

George can't help but smile as he jumps into the boy's arms. Holding each other tight as the fire around them surrounds, building a wall higher, and thicker. 

He kisses Clay, hoping his parents are watching from out of their window. He leans into Clay's neck before whispering, "I told you it wasn't over, didn't I?" 

Fuck you father. My love has never been sinful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading !! ily


	7. we fall in the field

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the field comes back into view, only bringing pain with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ!! major s*icide TW, this is important to the story so its not skippable :( i’m sorry!! if people have a problem i’ll try to think of something different, but this runs best with the story !! love you, stay safe.

He pulls his face from Clay's neck, staring into his eyes. So much has happened, yet the day still isn't over. The sting of the kiss still lingering on his lips, the guilt in his stomach still spreading. 

He can feel the adrenaline draining from his bloodstream, the shards of rock cutting his veins. This is where it all hits. He was so close, so close to that happiness. The feeling of regret filling his brain, smoke clouding all thoughts. 

The almost raw mark sitting on his cheek, still stinging from the harsh slap his father left. Nausea sitting in his stomach, bile rising in his throat. Tearing his eyes away from the others, clutching his stomach and he releases the contents inside of it into the bush. 

"Shit, you okay?" Clay says, his arms finding their way around George's waist. He holds the boy as he belches, which soon eventually turns into dry heaves. His body trying to remove everything that sits inside of him. 

It all burns his throat, his body down to the tips of his fingers. Coughing hard, falling to his knees as the weakness sits. Questioning for a second if he was ill again and if these are the harsh symptoms. Tears and saliva coating his chin, shaking as the arms around him keep in a safe grip. It's all crashing down, every emotion finally falling out. His need to run filling his body, the arms around him trapping him. 

"I need to go, please, I need to leave here!" He says, urgency filling his voice as all the happiness drains from him. Gripping the hands that wrap around his waist. He doesn't know where all of this is coming from, it hurts so bad. 

"Okay, shh, let's go," Clay says, letting go of the boy. He watches as the blond runs in, running out just as fast, clutching a pair of car keys. Telling George to follow, they both get in the car swiftly. Starting the car, pulling out fast. 

Clay looks over to George, looking at the small boy. They almost made it, he knew George would crash. Hopefully, he doesn't crash so hard that he burns in his fire. One hand on the wheel, the other clutching the shaking thigh that sits on the passenger side. 

Frantically looking through his phone, wondering how everyone got his number. He knows Clay has probably gotten more support than him, most of his friends that he's heard about aren't pieces of shit. 

He never thought this many people would want him to die, any slight feeling of worth leaving his body. He lets his head fall back against the seat, his body shaking as if he was sitting on a massage chair. 

He wonders if looks worse than Clay did, seeming as they traded emotions. The pain on Clay's face making it all worse. He knows Clay feels helpless, he feels selfish for this, never once asking what happened with his very own parents.

"Go to the field," George says, voice hoarse and small. 

"What?" Clay says, eyes going wide. "The field?" 

"Yes," He says as seriously as he can, pain trying to overfill his voice.

The field that had almost ruined it all, the field that almost poured just enough water on their fire to put it out. The field that love was confessed in, made in, and broken in. The field where George tried to end it all, end himself in a field where his love manifested. They haven't been there since Clay stopped him. A lucky coincidence that drew him in at the right time. Staring over the high grass, lucky for being tall he could scan the entire field. The rebellious sneak out turning into stopping your boyfriend from ending his life. The memory flooding his mind, grabbing the scared boy and holding him, screaming that he'll never let go. He didn't, he refused to let go until the sun peeked out from the tops of the trees. 

That had been the first time Clay promised to always save him, and he's never broken that promise. Always making it in perfect time, even with no communication, he was always drawn at the right time. 

It traumatized them both, that night sticking to them like a bad nightmare. A night after long tormenting from his church, the same one filled with his very own classmates. A night after long arguments with his parents, ending in crying and rubbing the pain that had been inflicted on his skin. 

Clay turns onto the last road until they reach the field. Both their hands shaking, the air in their chests leaving quickly as if they hit a hard floor. Head pounding as blood rushes to it, trying to calm the thoughts that overload his head. 

They see it, the green grass burning into their eyes. Memories flood in, as he turns his head and watches Clay painfully close his eyes. He stops the car, putting it in the park before he unbuckles. 

Looking over at Clay with sad eyes, before he practically jumps out of the car. Closing the car door as fast as he possibly can. Running over to the other side, where Clay stands frozen. 

He looks at him, Clay's eyes looking directly over his head. He watched as his eyes flicker back and forth, knowing he's remembering every moment. 

"I'm sorry," George says, turning his back to Clay as he rushes into the tall field. He watches as Clay trail directly behind him, feeling more guilt enter his insides as he knows he's not trusted. 

He finds their old spot, the grass still struggling to grow after a year. The mildew wetting George's pants as he kneels. It feels like a relapse, he feels as if he's letting so many down as his knees digging into the dirt. Clasping his hands, looking up into the bright sky. He begs out to be seen, not sure if he's doing it silently. 

He watches as Clay walks in front of him, blocking the sun from his dark eyes. The tall boy slowly kneels, as he puts his hands over George's. Their foreheads rest together as their eyes fall closed in unison. Clay hasn't prayed since they started dating, he doesn't care for all of this. He's scared, he's so scared of this place, and maybe this is a little peaceful. 

He's trying to reach out, but he can't feel anything, but he knows George does. Their hands tighten together as if they're sealing something sacred. 

"Amen," The boy's mutter. Their eyes opening, locking into each other. 

"Why'd you do that, I thought you don't believe?" George whispers. 

"I'm terrified," Clay says, his body language showing that he's being completely truthful. 

"I'm sorry," He says, his head falling onto Clay's shoulder. 

"Don't apologize" Clay says, doing the same thing. 

They sit here for a while on their knees, in the same dark patch of dead grass they used to. Sitting at the moment before they have to return, maybe they could run away, hide until they were 18 and people would stop looking. All they need is each other to survive, or at least they think. 

"I never asked" George starts, "What happened with your parents?" 

Clay visibly gulps, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. Eye's welling as he seems to be on the verge of a breakdown. George's stomach drops as he sees that somethings wrong, maybe they're not as safe as they expected. 

Forgive me father for what I have caused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ty for reading !! does anyone have any questions/theories about the story? those would be super cool to answer :)) what if i like de-anoned doe... ily!


	8. its time to go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they’re finally running, but it takes so long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOO !!! so this is a edited re-upload cause i absolutely loathed what i uploaded, i want to put out the best content i can ! if you read the first upload no you didnt...
> 
> trevor project- 1-866-488-7386.

"Clay, what happened?" He says slowly. Fire surrounds them, the circle slowly closing in. 

Clay sighs, looking up to the sky once more, seeming as if he's looking for support. His skin glows in the sunlight. Even with tear-stained cheeks, red inflamed eyes, he's still so unfairly gorgeous. He reaches a handout, grabbing the boy's larger one. Their hands intertwined, they sit for a moment before Clay takes a deep breath in. 

"Right after you left, they kept asking why I didn't tell them" Clay starts, "I thought they were being supportive, y'know, that they were gonna be happy for us," He says, eyes pointed at the sky. He feels his hand being squeezed tighter as if he's silently begging for something. The heat from the fire making sweat drip down their foreheads, their hair sticking with it. 

"That's not what happened," Clay says, a sob leaving his lips after. The fire creeping up behind him, the large waves lighting the grass in between them. The fire starts to burn them, catching onto their pant legs. 

"Baby," George cooed. He's not one for pet names, but it seemed it slipped out before he could control it. The fire trails upwards, igniting the bottom of their shirts. 

"They said they'd help us find somewhere to live, that my siblings shouldn't always be around this," He says, more hysterical. His voice growing louder, not sure if it's from the fire or the words being said. 

"Around this?" George says confused. Reaching the top of their chests heads sticking out as if they were swimming. They feel like they are, all air stored in their lungs as they struggle to breathe, trying not to waste any of it. 

"Around us, being gay," Clay starts, his voice cracking as if he's reading a sad poem from their burning book. "They said one gay child was enough, that they don't want it rubbing off on them"

The book of their love turning into ash in his very hands. Burning rips into them, showing the raw skin under. The pain making them scream, yet no sounds come out. 

Breathing rough, smoke entering their lungs at a face pace. It burns, everything burns as the world around them is going down in soot. Debris falling around them, the smell of burnt wood taking over any other. Dirt spreading on their bodies trying to cool the burn, their skin feeling as if it'll fall off. Their bodies latch together, their pained skin rubbing together. 

"We could run away," George says. The sweat on their bodies going cold, as the fire opens up just the smallest bit. 

Clay snaps up, looking at the boy with wide eyes. The fire resumes, closing in, killing all the grass around them. Smoke rising above the tall grass, exposing their secret area. 

"We could stay in your car, drive to who knows where. People would stop looking fast, nobody is gonna search for the gay kids," George says, looking Clay dead in the eye. His car is average, they could lay down the seats and make an uncomfortable bed. It would be good enough, run-aways usually don't get special treatment. 

"Let's do it," Clay says as if he was thinking the same thing. "Let's do it" Clay repeats, "We can go to my house, and get all the stuff we'd need, then we can leave," The boy says, his tone comforting. 

"We can try to get my stuff" George starts, "after we get yours, I don't know how bad it could end. I kind of forgot to get clothes.” 

Clay nods his head. They slowly stand. They look around, trying to find a way through the fire. 

Walking quickly to the car, looking over at the burning field. It would be the last time they'd see it, and they couldn't be happier. Feeling a wave of joy watching it burn to the ground, at least for them to see. 

Climbing into the car, their hands clasping over the center console. Bubbles of anticipation forming in their stomachs. So much had happened, this day has been so long. He begs for it to end soon, longing for when they're alone. Swerving through the fire, feeling as if the paint on their car is melting. 

The drive is silent, no words are shared between the tense boys. Finally escaping the inside of the fire, this doesn't mean it isn't trailing close behind. Looking out of his window, seeing the thick smoke trail behind them. Their hands still grasping onto each other, palms growing sweaty at the warm contact. 

Pulling up along their street. Their houses showing no signs of damage, that's just until you walk inside. They pull up slowly, sparks flying as their car scrapes the ground. Ashes dragging behind them as they step out of their car, leaving a trail behind them. They walk in, looking at the place that used to be their safety. Looking around, seeing the fire try to fight its way into the house, he makes eye contact with Clay's sister, before he's roughly pulled upstairs. 

They walk into Clay's room, sheets still on the floor from their panic. He scans the room, the room that in a few short hours flooded, now too wet to light any type of fire in. Their bodies looking for any moisture in the air, screaming out in pain, yet none of it leaves their lips. Every sound caught in their throat, feeling as if his tongue is too big for him to talk. The heat blisters painting his body in sick art, it shouldn't be this beautiful.

"I'm so tired," He groans out, flopping on Clay's bed. The cold sheets soothing his skin. 

"Take a nap then, darling" Clay says, badly imitating his foreign accent. Even with living in America almost his entire life, the accent can’t seem to leave. 

Falling next to George, their breaths in sync. Their red shoulders touching, the friction in between causing them to sting. 

"I don't think I could sleep if I tried," He says, rubbing his burnt arms.

The room growing humid from the heat radiating off them. Growing too comfortable he stands up, walking over to Clay's closet, grabbing a large bag. 

Clay follows behind, they start packing. Clothes, blankets, pillows, you could name it and they have it packed. Grabbing the three large bags, they move to slide out of the door, until Clay's sister walks in. 

"You're not leaving, are you?" She says, glancing at the 3 full bags. 

"That's exactly what I- we're doing" Clay replies, his voice softening as he realizes who it was. 

"What? You can't just leave! They'll call the police or something" She says, raising her voice. She sits in front of the door, trying to block them from getting out. 

"I'm sorry, we have to" He replies sadly. the fire rising above his windows. 

"But I'll miss you," She says quietly. 

George puts his hand on Clay's shoulder, signaling for him to stop talking. He walks towards Clay's sister, kneeling in front of her. He pushes a strand of soft blonde hair out of her face. The same face Clay makes when he's upset, it seems to run through the family. 

"You'll see him again," George says, voice ever so soft. 

"You're leaving us too, both of you!" She says, anger spiking her voice. 

"We have no choice," He says, an arm calmly resting on her shoulder. 

"You'll understand one day, but we can't wait any longer," Clay says, standing next to George. Clay copies George, even kneeling he still towers George. "We can't sit here, it's not safe for us. You haven't seen what people have already said about us, to us. I can't sit here and see George in danger, not even so much myself." He says, sounding much calmer. 

The pained expression still laying on his face, knowing none of them will truly understand. They'll see this as some kind of rebel when they're truly fighting for their lives. You'd never think it takes so much to fight a fire only you can see. 

He and his sister had always been close. They'd always do something random together, with or without George. She knew she could tell them anything, even if it wasn't as vise versa. It's a shame she's so much younger, wishing they could've had more time together. There wouldn't have been much longer 'til he left anyways. Their original plans to leave late at night, yet it seems like fate doesn't care about their plans. 

He takes a deep breath before speaking again. Soot entering his lungs making them burn, he gets the strong urge to cough everything in his lungs out. Wishing he could claw them out, they only seem to cause pain. Many words sit on his tongue, ready to say every bad thing about his parents, but he knew he couldn't do that. He can't ruin more. 

"Don't let them change you." He says, gesturing for her to move out of the way. She finally budges. All three of them stand before the boys are tackled in a hug, one that almost knocks them over. 

"I still love you guys," She says, face buried in Clay's side. 

"We love you too, we'll see you soon," Clay says, feeling as if a rock has formed in his throat. 

"Promise," She says, sticking out her pinkie. 

"I promise," He says, wrapping his own around hers. 

They grab their bags and walk out, saying their silent goodbyes to the room that held them together for so long. They can only feel sympathy for the broken walls around them, stepping over rubble so it doesn't cut their ankles. George didn't think it would hurt so bad leaving a place that wasn't his home, part of him thinks it feels worse. 

Heading down the stairs, they look at every picture hung on the walls. Pictures of Clay's family, George always included. Pictures from the bloom of their relationship, where the word boyfriend still felt foreign. Two young boys, their looks ever so innocent, not knowing the destruction they would cause in 2 years. 

He envies them. It's weird envying your past self, he can't help it. Both boys have no idea how they feel, or what they're even feeling. Their feet move slowly, their bodies feeling as if gravity around them has given up. Passing Clay's brother, who just nods. The world moving in slow motion as they walk out of the front door.

Walking through the empty driveway, the same driveway where their late-night talks would start, even so, open they felt so alone. The world only being them, they were so happy. Even on the nights where Clay would have to hold a shaking George, whispering soothing love only for him to hear, they still found a way to be happy. Unlocking the car, they open one of the back doors, slowly moving bags into the car.

"You promise to save me if something goes wrong?" George says, laying a bag down.

"Of course," Clay says, resting his hand on George's shoulder. "Have I ever broken a promise?" 

"Promise to not do anything stupid," George says, turning to face Clay. 

This was the first time Clay never promised, instead just taking the boy's hand and starting their journey. They walk as slowly as possible, or so it seems. Every memory flooding back. Getting hit, listening to the screams of his parents, the police sirens, Clay running in to come to grab him out of the house. It's all so painful. Almost as painful as the fire scorching their bare skin. 

It's the time where his dad is supposed to be at work, his mother not leaving until the late day. Hopefully, they were safe.

Walking up to the door, looking at Clay for support. His comfort, his entire love next to him, it feels as if this is the end of the world. Not even sure if they'd tell everyone about their love then. Apart from them still wishing nobody knew, this was their dirty little secret. The secret running them, the secret taking over their entire life and changing it. There are multiple endings to this story, it seems to already be chosen. 

"Do you want to leave?" Clay asks. 

"No," He says quietly. He's scared, more scared than he's ever been. Bile rising as it had did earlier that morning. Ash falling off his arm as he reaches for the doorknob, twisting it and pushing it open. . He sees his mom sitting at the counter, looking almost as drained as he does. She goes to open her mouth, but George cuts her off. 

"I'm just here to get my stuff, we'll be gone quick," He says, jaw tightening. 

"That's not what I was going to say," She says, putting her cup down.

"I could care less," He says with a shrug.

"George, please," She says, standing from her chair. She makes her way towards the boy's, placing her hand on her son's shoulder. He wants to break, the fire moving its way in through the open door. They hear the fire go out. 

"What the hell are they doing here?" They all hear a loud voice say. They all quickly turn, George's father standing in the doorway. He was smart. Knowing you can't fight fire with fire, he decided to bring water. 

"What are you doing here" George replies in the same tone.

His father quickly walking directly at the boys. Water falling off of him, outing the fire behind him. 

"You're not welcome here," He says, pointing his finger at Clay's chest. They stand eye-to-eye, given that they're the same height. "You made my son sick, you bastard," he says, shoving Clay back a bit. 

"Dad- Stop!" George says, quickly shushed by his mother. 

"Id do it again if I had the chance" Clay sneers. Their fire attacking back. 

"I'm not sure you want to play this game, Clay," His father says with a devilish tone. 

"I'm not sure what you mean, Sir" Clay replies. 

A harsh clashing sound hits the air, a punch straight to Clay's jaw sends him flying down to the ground. He coughs, blood sputters from his lip as he looks up. George goes to move forward, held back by his mother as Clay raises a hand towards him. 

"George, don't move," He says, sucking in as much air as he can. Coldwater pouring over their fire, shocking their insides.

"Stop, please!" George begs. 

Clay looks up at George’s father, breathing heavily. He turns his head to George, assuring him everything will be okay. Fire growing a large wall around them, just as it had in the field. It's burning them all, and George is fully convinced that the fire is real. 

George's father walks towards his son, looking him dead in the eye before speaking. 

"Is this what you wanted? I'm trying to protect you!" His father says, the boy's blood on his hands. "Answer me!" 

"Please, please stop" George begs. 

"I'm showing you what happens! Do you want that to be you?" His father yells. 

"Don't hurt him," A raspy voice says, "Hurt me instead, you're right. I'm sick, I'm the ill one, not him," Clay says, face twisted in pain. George's father turns around, watching the boy talk. 

"Clay," George's voices break. Clay's voice was too genuine, the fire burning his core, tearing at his heart. 

"George, shut up!" Clay starts. "We- I'll be gone soon, just let me leave." 

George's father turns back around, looking his son directly in the eye. Maybe just for a moment, or it could've been his imagination, his father's expression turns slightly guilty. 

His shirt covered in the blood of an innocent 17-year-old boy, moving quickly to get another one. His father leaves the house in a hurry, probably hoping the cops don't come. 

The blond slowly stands, his skin glowing under the fire. Only one can be so beautiful. Their eyes locking, expression unreadable as he walks towards George. 

"Clay, you didn't mean that- right?" George says, frantic. His mind is moving too fast, any cognitive thought leaving. Their fire explodes, burning everything and everyone around them. Most would be wailing in pain, but they don't have the energy anymore. 

They're so close, just out of the front door and they're gone. They know this will be painful, they can only stay in a car for so long until everything goes down again. For a second, George thinks they're already at the bottom. His heart still burning from Clay's words. 

Clay's jaw tightens, wiping blood from his nose. His hands shake, he knew he couldn't promise George not to say anything. The words he muttered coming from deep inside of him, feelings he had repressed for George's sake. The words burning his throat, the humid air killing his skin. The shocked look on his boyfriend's faces saying everything he needed to hear.

Maybe this is the bottom, both not sure if anything worse can happen. When they envisioned this day, they pictured them already being gone. That they left this horrible town years ago, finally far enough to be themselves. Yet again, they were so wrong. A screw of emotions in both of them, burning both of them into the ground where they'd bound to end up. The ashes they're creating leaving a trail behind them, a trail that many people now follow. 

It all burns, their bodies covered in blisters only they can see. The fire blocking them from moving, feeling as if they're a brick wall. They both want to leave so bad, get in the car, and run. They can't move. Frozen in fast-moving time, only so long until it's too late. Only so long until this fire takes over and kills them all, destructing everything with it. 

He grabs George's hand, walking him out of the door without a word, only stopping when a voice shouts out. 

"Clay- Wait!" His mother says quickly. She hands something to Clay, wrapping his hands around what he's holding. 

"Protect him, please." She begs.

"Always," He says. 

The boys say nothing to each other. The only sounds made are Clay's painful groans, trying to get to the car as quickly as they can. George drives, after the first words they say to each other being an argument that Clay isn't well enough to drive, George finally drives. 

Forgive me, father, I'll rethink my sin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tell me if this is better !! its a bit longer, i hope you guys like it c: !!
> 
> i may take a break from daily uploads, i feel that my work started getting rusted especially since writing is hard with the way i live right now !! <3 i love you.


	9. car thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it still burns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FILLER CHAPTER!!! i’m sorry if its boringgggggg, i wrote this while being super carsick, felt we needed more George internal crisis

It's all so hard. You wouldn't think being stuck in a car with your lover would be so difficult, but here they are. George lies awake, wrapped in his boyfriend's arms, even though they were fighting just minutes before slumber took over the blond. It's all so painful, both boys still processing everything. The bruises on Clay's jaw slowly lightening, making them remember every moment.

They didn't talk for the first night, parked in a random town two hours over when they decided to sleep. George prayed before bed, it pissed Clay off. They fought, the first words muttered to each other since that morning. Gross words said to each other, only to follow with quick apologies. Neither of them meant most of what they said. They still woke up pressed together, their bodies looking for something cool in this harsh fire. 

It's been three days, three days since they left, three days since they threw their phones in a random trashcan. The last contact they had was Clay's friend, Karl, offering them a place to stay if they could make the almost 9-hour drive. Clay and his friends did some kind of Youtube thing, something George didn't know much about. His parents never let him participate, let alone be on a call with one of Clay's friends. It was a way for them to make some kind of money, now living off 100$ and a half-empty case of water they bought. Their biggest expense being gas, they barely even try to get food at this point. They can only hope that they aren't leaving a trail of soot behind them, dirty handprints exposing their location. 

He wishes sleep would fall over him, but he can't stop thinking. Everything so fresh in his mind, it causes the skin to tear in his stomach, feeling as if he's bleeding out. He looks a Clay, looking as peaceful as possible when he sleeps. The signs of pure exhaustion plastered on his face after hours of driving, finally winning the argument to let him drive. They both feel so conflicted, times like these forgetting they're still children in society's eyes.

Removing Clay's heavy arm off of his waist, he accidentally wakes the boy up. 

"Hm?" Clay says disoriented, "Where are you going?" 

"Shit, sorry, I didn't mean to wake you" George whispers. 

"Are you alright?" Clay says, sitting up on his elbows. 

"I was thinking about driving, can't sleep," George says, shrugging his shoulders. 

"Babe" Clay whispers, "You haven't slept since we left" 

"Yes, I have!" George says defensively. 

"Shh, I'm not trying to start an argument," Clay says fully sitting up, his hands twisted in their thin blanket. 

"I'm sorry," George says, letting out a large sigh. 

"C"mere" Clay says, gesturing for George to lie back in his arms. George leans forward, face in Clay's shirt, listening to the steady heartbeat. Alive, they're still alive. 

"We'll be at Karl's soon, everything will be okay" Clay starts, his large hands running over George's body.

"We'll make money there, I promise. We won't be there for long, only until we turn 18. Then we can try to get approved for an apartment, and everything will finally be perfect"

"You think?" George says into the boy's soft shirt. 

"I know, I know everything will work out. With you, everything works out" Clay says, pressing a kiss to the dark hair. 

Hope fills George's chest, maybe they weren't at the bottom anymore. Slowly escaping the fire the further they go, maybe they'll even see snow. Even with all their fights, the moments when they wish neither spoke, their love never fails to bring them back together. 

Clay never fails to tell him, after hours of yelling and ignoring, it's always the last words he says before going to bed. George not so much, he always has trouble expressing his feelings. He's always so worried about saying the wrong words, so he says nothing at all. 

Clay never took offense to that, knowing exactly how the boy works. Secret kisses behind Clay's house, cuddling on the couch at 4 AM when Clay's parents were asleep, this was George's way of I love you. 

Their childish rebellious love blooming into something much more, and even though they may think differently, they wouldn't change where they are now. Both not knowing if this is what they intended, but there was no turning back now. 

The comfort he finds lying against Clay's chest is the most he's ever felt, and it's always been that way. Hearing his heartbeat knowing that he's alive is just enough for him, enough for him to have the smallest bit of hope.

"I can start driving again if you'd like," Clay says. 

“No! Go back to sleep, I’ll be fine,” George says, pushing down on Clay’s chest, signaling for him to lie back. 

Lying his head on Clay’s shoulder, hand ghosting over the boy’s strong jaw, and then over the bruises that scatter across it. Nausea spreads through his stomach as Clay tries to hide the pain that lies under the bruised skin. 

“Does it still hurt?” He whispers, seeming as if he’s afraid to bring it up. 

“I’m okay,” Clay says, arms wrapping around the smaller one. 

“That’s not what I asked,” George mutters. 

“They don’t hurt, I swear,” Clay says, his eyes closing as he lays his head against the others, “Please don’t worry. I’m okay, we’re okay, it's all okay”. 

“I love you,” George says, air filling his lungs, waiting for the smoke to fill in. He’s scared. Terrified that the longer they wait, the more time the fire has to catch up. 

It always feels like the first time with Clay, the words, “I love you,” feeling ever so foreign, yet comfortable at the same time. 

Clay’s breath hitches, taken by surprise from the words, since he’s usually the one to say it first.

“I love you too, George, ” Clay sighs out, drowsiness spreading all across his body. 

He admires the boy as he falls asleep in their crammed 2014 ford explorer, barely enough leg space for both of them. His hand still rubbing Clay’s jaw, the stubble scratching his hand. He envies him, just for a slight second. He feels selfish, sometimes failing to realize Clay has gone through just as much, at this point even more than he has, yet he's still the priority. He feels so dirty, wishing he could wash the soot off of him. 

Everything revolving around how comfortable George is. He knows Clay would do anything for him, and sometimes that scorches him worse than the fire. Of course, he’d do the same for the blond, but it makes him feel so guilty. For the times he’d scream about them being riddled with sin, being sick, and in need of help, never thinking about how that affected Clay. They still haven't discussed the words said to his father, both seeming too scared to start that conversation. 

He’s not sure what keeps him up at night, but that is one of the things. Clay calling himself ill haunts George, creeping up to him at random times, making him want to shut down. He made Clay think that. He couldn't help but feel that this was all his fault. The worst part is that they don’t know who outed them, wishing someone would just come forward. 

They have three hours left, seeing as that’s how long they can drive daily, it grows too painful after too long. Having to use an actual map is the hardest part, and then finding a payphone to call Karl. Feeling as if they live in a different time, the actions around them not altering this feeling. 

Pain longing in his stomach as he keeps thinking, his brain not stopping. Apart from him thinks the fire is inside of them now, taking a different approach to this brutal attack. He can only hope he’s taking all of the burns, it's the least he can do. 

He lies there, the pain spreading throughout his body. He deserves it, he doesn't deserve to be laying in Clay’s arms, but he can’t find the strength to move. 

He starts to shake, not sure if it's from exhaustion, or his body overfilling with emotion. The fire taking over his body, killing anything cold. Filling his nerves with pain, a pain that shoots throughout George, who can only pray that it isn’t hurting Clay. 

His prayers now run silent, scared that any sign of him reaching out will kill everything around him. He feels guilty when he does, the open skin around his nails burning when he presses his hands together. Thinking back on when Clay would wrap bandaids around the bleeding digits, wishing he was awake to do it now. 

The arms around him tightening, he feels protected. That only makes the burn worse. It's so painful, and it won't stop. Fire shooting through his veins, down his spine, and through the tips of his toes. He swallows the wails of pain, small whimpers leaving his lips, trying his best to not wake the sleeping boy. 

The pain worsening as his brain runs more, clouded with smoke he can barely think. His thoughts seem so cloudy, yet so clear it confuses him. His eyes close in pain, not having enough energy to open them. He just wants to sleep, but the searing pain in his body stopping him from anything. Tears won't even fall from his eyes, he’s scared that if he opens his mouth smoke will pour out and suffocate them. The blanket becoming cement over the boys, leaving them locked in place. His burning fingers still locked on the jaw that started killing him, unable to move. He’s forced to look at it, forced to remember that this is all his fault. Fighting with himself, but not sure if the voice fighting back is even his. 

He’s in agony, and even though he’s held in a protective grip, he feels so alone. Trying to focus on Clay’s heartbeat, doing anything to stop his thoughts from running, his body refuses to listen. It feels like he’s been laying here forever, the discomfort only growing more over time. 

Wishing he knew what was causing this, this horrible pain. If it's their love, they may as well shove him in a hospital already. 

He can’t tell if this pain is real, or all inside of his head. He begs for it to stop, not ready to take the years worth of punishment he deserves. The white pain eases, just the slightest bit as Clay stirs, a low grumble leaving his soft lips as they rest on George’s forehead. It soothes him, just the tiniest bit. His eyelids grow heavy, the boiling pain going down to just a light simmer, draining everything he had in him. 

He finally sleeps, seeming that God had finally listened to one of his prayers. His nose pressed firmly against Clay’s neck, his arms weekly grasping onto him. His body falling still as the shaking slowly stops, frantic breaths evening out. 

Their love trying to heal the sleeping boys, only if it could do more. Only if just their love could prove to everyone that they’re the same, that they’re safe, and that they truly love each other. Everyone complains about all the fake love around them, but would never let the two boys prove how real theirs is. 

Nobody expects the two childhood friends to fall in love, even after everyone around them saying it was wrong. Maybe God needed to prove it some way, using the lovers as his puppets to show they’re no different, or he could be doing the complete opposite. Neither of them will ever know, all they can do is hope. They’ll get through this, they have to. What if this is the test? The test that everyone talks about, instead of testing their faith he’s testing their loyalty. Their loyalty to each other as they undergo the hardest time of their life, their loyalty to their words and promises, as they fulfill what they have said. We’ll never know, and that may cause problems, but we’ll just have to see. Until then, forgive me father for the pain I’ve caused Clay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELCOME KARL!! i’m thinking of adding more of my personal favorites into the story, starting with mr jacobs !
> 
> thank you for reading, ily!


	10. last drive until were home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> basically what the title says

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYYYYY WHATS UP!!!! how’re you guys? sorry if this chapter is absolutely boring, stuff will finally kick off again next chapter!! updates may be slow, facing a possible medical crisis that could prevent me writing for a bit !! love you.

Clay wakes up to a head digging into his shoulder, turning his head, and seeing a -finally- sleeping boy. Slowly wiggling his way out of George's grip he sits up, relief spreading throughout his body as he gazes upon the unconscious one. George hasn't slept in days, no matter how hard he tries to say he has, Clay, know's he's lying. 

He watches the boys handgrip the sheets next to him, reaching out for the body that wasn't lying there. Clay watches his face grow a pained look as his hand desperately reached around. Clay stuck his hand in the reaching one, the snoozing boy immediately going back peaceful. He feels the grip tighten around him, he wonders if George was having a nightmare. 

He had always had them, he'd wake up screaming, begging for someone to help, he'd always reach out for Clay. On the day's even where Clay wasn't around his body would still try. Clay would always wake him up, save him from the gruesome images of his parents. He'd hold George as if it was the last time, kissing the top of his head and muttering comforting words in his ears, he was always there. 

He sees the small boy tense again, his body flinching as if he just got hit with a ball. He leans down shaking the boy's shoulder a bit, wide brown eyes fly open, looking directly into his very own. 

"Are you okay?" Clay says softly. 

"When did I fall asleep?" George says, grogginess filling his voice. 

"I don't know, you didn't answer my question" 

He watches as George hesitates, seeming nervous about something. 

"What's wrong, George? You know you can tell me" Clay whispers, his thumb moving in soothing circles on the back of George's hand. 

George looks around, his hand moving to move their make-shift curtain to look out of the window, eyes squinting at the bright sun. 

"It was about you," George says, not meeting Clay's eyes. "The nightmare, it was about you" 

"What happened?"

"Nevermind, it's fine. I'm okay, " George says, lying back once again. 

"Please, please tell me what happened," Clay says, a shaky exhale leaving his lips. 

"Clay, please, it's too early for this" George says, biting the inside of his cheek. "Can we please just go?" 

"Of course," Clay says, climbing into the driver seat. He starts the car, pulling out of the grocery store parking lot they had slept in.

"Do you want me to drive?"

"No" 

"Are you sure?" George asks tentatively. 

"Yes," Clay says shortly. 

"I'm sorry, Clay, I'm just not ready to talk about all of this yet, " George says, leaning his head on the cold window. 

"You think I am? We're both going through this," Clay scoffs, burning anger filling his stomach, blocking out almost all rational thought. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that-" He starts before getting interrupted.

"You're right, I have been selfish about all of this, I'm sorry. I'm just so scared" George says quietly. A large hand makes its way to the small thigh, slightly squeezing it. He knows this is Clay's wordless apology. 

"You don't have to talk about anything, not right now at least. Can you help me with the map?" Clay asks, trying to shift the conversation. 

"It's so funny how you didn't know how to read a map," George says, a giggle escaping his lips. 

"Hey! Nobody even uses them anymore" Clay laughs, a wide smile spreading across his face. 

Some days it worries him how fast they can change, one moment fighting the other laughing with each other, he tries not to focus on the bubbles forming in his gut. He knows they're not toxic, it's just everything that's happened in such a short period throwing everything off. George's struggle for communication doesn't help. Clay's always been open to talking through their issues, George just tries to ignore their existence. 

He doesn't want to fight anymore, so he doesn't bring it up. 

He hates the way their contact feels forced. George wearing Clay's clothes 'cause they couldn't grab any of his own. George wearing his clothes used to turn him on, the action ever so intimate, now it makes him feel guilty. It's hard to look at your boyfriend and be filled with regret. He will never regret loving George, or what they have, but he regrets putting him through all of this pain. It sickens him, so he tries not to think. Keep your eyes on the road, follow the map, that's all he lets himself think. He wants to think about George, he craves him, he wants to pull over and hold him until everything is fine again, but he can't. Their life of secret love is over, now it's all about survival in this brutal heat. 

They'll need fuel soon, but he can't bring himself to stop the car. He feels like he's working on auto-pilot, the real Clay only coming out at moments of love. 

They're an hour away from Karl's when finally one of them speaks. 

"I hate this silence" George lets out. He's sitting against the door, a blanket tucked under his armpits as he stares out of the window. 

"Me too" 

"Talk to me"

"Are we okay?" Clay blurts out, only meaning to think that. 

"What do you mean?" George says, sitting up quickly.

"No, no, not like that! I mean like- you know I love you? Right?" Clay says frantically. 

"Did you do something?" George says, anxiety filling his voice. 

"No! I'm just worried, fuck, George I just don't want you to forget," Clay says softly. 

"I could never forget," The smaller one says, making their elbows touch on the armrest. "I'm sorry for taking everything out on you"

Clay laughs, it's a dry, sad laugh. 

"It's hard to take it out on anyone else since it is just us" 

"Well, we do have the weird book we bought" George laughs. 

The tragic love story on pages behind them, what a shame their's is real. Oh, how beautifully tragic all love is, some just shows more. One's get burned to death, others freeze. Neither know which is more painful. It traumatizes you, whichever pain you get. It hits when you least anticipate it, the lonely hours of the night, in the middle of a busy supermarket, always at the hardest times. 

Love has mercy for none, and their story explains that. Love is always explained to be this beautiful thing, but nobody is ready to accept the pain that comes with it. Only if they would realize that love is the virus, not their sin. The sickness of love infecting all, taking lives everywhere with it. What a shame they're not sad characters in a book. 

"Why do you think tragic love stories are so popular?" Clay wonders. 

"I don't know, I hate living in one" 

"You think we're tragic?" 

"We've always been tragic, my love" George responds. 

Clay smiles, not knowing where it's coming from. He drives and for once they talk without argument. Another hour down, only two left and they're dying to arrive. Time moves at a weird pace, never moving in the way they wish it would. 

They eventually are forced to stop for gas. Both holding off, too scared that their fire will cause an explosion. Clay slowly pulls into a pump at the small station, wondering how the hell anyone works here. Leaving George in the car, he walks into the store. 

There's not much to look at, it doesn't bother him. It's nice seeing something so subtle, subtle being what both of these boys need. 

"Can I get 9 gallons on 7?" Clay asks, a fear roaming in his stomach that he'll be recognized. He wouldn't be surprised if the two boys end getting spotted, especially with the way their leak got spread so widely. 

"Yeah, hold on," The cashier says, looking almost as empty as Clay. 

The tall one looks around while standing in the silence, his eyes meet with a small pink elephant. He snorts while picking it up, turning the small figure in his hands. George would love this. They always bought small things for each other, easy to hide, also easy to make an excuse if they got found. 

"And this too" Clay adds, putting the elephant on the counter. He hopes the fire isn't standing behind him, outing him in big letters. 

"For your girlfriend or something? It'll be 46.50" The cashier asks with a laugh. 

"Something like that" Clay says, his mind cursing at gas prices. That's almost half their money, hopefully, they'll make it. They always do. Taking the elephant off of the counter and putting it deep into his pocket, he makes his way for the door.

"Have a nice day, treat your girl well" The cashier says with a smile. 

"Always" 

Clay walks back to the car, moving as fast as he can filling the gas. He looks in and sees George reading the tragic love story, it makes him laugh. Quickly finishing up, he sits back in the car. 

"How was it in there?" George asks, putting the open book in his lap. 

"The cashier was nice, kept telling me to treat you well" Clay laughs. 

"You told a random person about us?" George says skeptically.

"No! It's cause I got you something, nimrod" Clay says with a smile, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the elephant. 

"What even is this?" George laughs out, twirling the small animal with his fingers, inspecting it. 

"An elephant, duh" 

"Why thank you, Clay, I didn't know what this animal was," George says, his voice laced with sarcasm. George leans over, pressing a light kiss to Clay's lips, smiling into it. 

"Seriously, thank you for the gift, I'll forever treasure it" 

"Anything for you," Clay says, laughing through his words. 

Putting the keys back into the ignition, he looks out of the window. The cashier staring at them, smiling and giving a thumbs up. The small gesture giving him everything he needed to know. Maybe public affection wasn't so bad. He silently hopes they can always be like this, maybe one day he'll be able to correct the cashier. Maybe they'll go back to school and be able to show their love in the hallways. Walk hand in hand through the parks, fields, even the sad grocery store parking lots. 

He pulls out once again, continuing their journey. They go back to comfortable silence, only speaking when needing help with the map. 

His back hurts from sleeping on the backs of his seats, they're both tired of waking up cold. This will be the first time he's even meeting Karl, nonetheless of moving in with him. They'll be out soon he reminds himself, always hating feeling like he's looking for charity. He thinks about asking George to drive, but can't bring himself to ask as he watched his boyfriend read at peace, small specs of soot dirtying each page. 

They're finally an hour away, stopping in a busy area trying to find a phone. They quickly find one, calling Karl and agreeing to meet at the entrance to his town. Happiness filling the boys when they realize they can leave their car. George finishes the book, throwing it into the back seat with a sigh. 

"You okay?" Clay asks, placing a soft hand on the small boy's thigh. 

"The book reminded me of us, " George says, placing his hand on top of Clay's. 

"How so?"

"Same secret love that eventually gets exposed, " George starts, "The only difference is they complain about a snowstorm following them, I feel like ours is fire" 

"Why fire?" 

"Cause it's burned us, branded itself into our skin. When I fell in love with you it felt as if smoke was clouding my brain, clogging every thought that wasn't about you" 

"Is that a bad thing? Clay asks, intertwining their fingers. 

"Never" 

They both smile. This is the longest they've gone without fighting while in this cramped car. They know it'll end soon, their escape 30 minutes away from them. Their ash running out hours ago, leaving their trail to a dead-end, maybe they're finally safe. 

They're 10 minutes from meeting Karl, 10 minutes until they're welcomed into a new home, welcomed into a new family. They'll so scared to burn someone else house down, but they have no choice. They'd rather burn the world than douse themselves with water. 

5 minutes is when the nervousness hits the peak, nausea filling their stomachs as they grow close. Hands shaking as they grip onto each other tightly. 

1 minute when they make the final left turn, seeing Karl stand in front of his car with one of his other roommates. One last glance the boys share until they pull up, parking next to the others. 

"Karl! Alex!" Clay says, getting out of the car. The boys hug, they've all been friends for years. George stands nervously behind Clay, looking like a lost child. 

"This is George, " Clay says, wrapping his arm around the smaller ones' waist. 

They hug George as if they've known him just as long, all laughing together as if they weren't taking in two-runaways. 

They all smile as they depart to their cars, as they head on their last journey home. 

Forgive me father, for I am now home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!!! comments always keep me so motivated so thank you for leaving them !! i love you, if the chapters bad just tell me !


	11. we’re home, my love.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the run is over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy SHITTTTTTTTT !!!!!!! i cannot believe this is almost over. i’ve never gotten so much support on a story it means so much to me!! i’m most likely going to de-anon when i post the epilogue, and i’ll probably make a oneshot to follow up! i love you !

They drive slow, following directly behind Karl. Emotions running high, they feel as if they're floating. They're scared that if they breathe they'll blow the fire, making it take form again. They're happy, genuinely happy. Away from their parents, classmates, they're away from everything. Their hands attached, sweat growing in between their touching palms. 

"Could your palms be any more sweaty?" George taunts.

"You're one to talk" Clay retorts with a wide smile. He's so in love it hurts. He knows George is the one, the one he'll eventually marry, grow old with. He can't help but imagine it, laughing at his vision of old George. 

"Are you nervous?" George says. Clay looks at him, seeing the twinge of nervousness on his face. 

"Never with you," Clay says and for a moment George swears he sees hearts.

"You're such an idiot."

The smile, inching closer and closer. Not noticing that the fire had stopped following hours ago, they're finally reaching a place that they'll be safe in. Sparks still shoot off of them, ready to ignite fast, but they're learning to contain it. The burning pain slowly leaving their veins, going unnoticeable. Their hands grow tight together, fingers turning slightly white. They reflect on the painful memories, that are slowly growing distant, maybe one day they'll be forgotten. They know they'll have to face their parents, but they're too busy living in the moment. 

"I think I'm more excited than nervous" Clay says, "Is there anything you want to do when we get there?"

"I mean- I can do our laundry, and you clean out the ca-"

"You're so boring." Clay interrupts. 

"Clay, we're not having sex the moment we get to your friend's house." 

"What?!" Clay exclaims, "That's not even what I said!" 

Both boys burst out in laughter, true laughter. They feel so free, finally able to talk above a whisper. They're still scared. Scared that their parents will find them, scared that their car will break down, they're just scared, but other feelings over-powering it. They both had to mature so fast, their bodies slowing as they get to act their age. The feeling is almost euphoric. The air in their lungs feeling so light instead of being coated in soot. The gray hue that covered everything gone, finally seeing the true colors of everything around them. 

"Does everything seem brighter to you?" Clay asks. 

"What do you mean?" 

"Like the colors, or whatever." 

"I'm colorblind." George deadpans, and it sends Clay into a frenzy. He clutches his stomach with one hand, the other trying not to swerve off the road. They see Karl's hand stick on of his window, sticking a thumbs up to ask if they're okay. It only makes Clay laugh harder. 

"If you crash the car when we're -this- close to victory, I will murder you," George says, laughs leaving his throat rapidly. The term victory hitting Clay straight in the chest. Them being able to show their love is the biggest victory of all. 

"I'm okay- I swear!" Clay says, wiping a tear from his eye. 

George looks at Clay, his tanned skin glowing in the sunlight. He's truly ethereal. His eyes filled with lust, sending every love message with just a look. He's so beautiful it hurts George, a pain spreading through his stomach. He still can't grasp that Clay is his, and his only. He doesn't know if he wants to cry or laugh, every emotion on the tip of his tongue. He wants to reach out and grasp Clay's hand again, so he does. His small hand fitting perfectly inside of Clay's, a soothing thumb rubbing across his fair skin. He's okay, they're okay. They're okay and alive, and it's all so much, he's so happy that it cools any burn on his body. 

They inch closer, and closer, their stomachs doing flips as they shake in anticipation. 

"We need to get you new clothes," Clay says, letting go of George's hand to grip his thigh. 

"Want me out of yours that badly," George says sarcastically.

"I feel like you'd bite me if I tried to get that shirt back," Clay says, seriousness lacing his tone. 

"It's comfy," George says, slouching down in his seat. 

"I know! It's mine!" Clay laughs. 

"Shut up," George says, rolling his eyes. 

They see Karl slow, guessing that means they're close. Their hands attaching again, seeming to be a nervous habit. Their breathing deep, as they hope for the best. Turning into Karl's neighborhood, a deep breath leaves both of their lips. This being the last time they'll have to sit in this car for hours. Both ready to just give this car away, wishing they didn't have to see it. They gaze at the house they're pulling up to. It's not too small, nor too big, it'll fit them all perfectly. 

Karl turns into his driveway, Clay following close behind. Clay parks, pulling the key's out of the ignition, his mouth gaping. Unbuckling and quickly jumping out of the car, their eyes go wide. They have a new home.

"Holy shit" George mutters, then he's hit with a bone-crushing hug from behind. Clay picks up the small boy, twirling them as if they're in an annoying coming of age film. Cackling laughter leaving their lips as the two other boys watch, a smile on all of their faces. He puts down George, capturing his lips. Their first kiss in front of people, it's absolutely terrifying. They pull away, silence filling the yard until Alex claps like a maniac. Laughter escaping all of their throats, jumping up and down as if they're at a rave. They all finally calm down, walking into the house.

"Welcome home!" Karl says, his arms spread wide. 

The boys have never felt this welcome, no true place to call home. George swears he won't cry until they're alone, that promise growing wary. The last time he cried with happiness was when he was 15, sitting in that wet field as Clay confessed his love. Oh- how much they've grown since then, their love turning into so much more than just a wet field. they've finally escaped the chains that held them pinned to a wall, they've run far enough. They did what they never thought they'd be able to do, and they're so strong for it. Maybe this is their fate, losing their faith was apart of what they had to do to survive. They're alive, and that's all that matters. 

They follow Karl through the house, showing them every room along the way. 

"You guys are okay with sharing a room- right?" Karl asks. 

"Of course." The boys laugh out. 

"This one's yours," Karl says, opening the door into their bedroom. it's not much, a bed, a small desk, but they're so grateful that it radiates off of them. The two boys practically glowing. They walk into the room, smooth hands running across the bedsheets. Finally, an actual bed, a real bathroom that isn't a gross gas station one. Even though their run was short, they felt every moment of it. 

"Dude, thank you," Clay says, hugging Karl. 

"No problem! Didn't want to live alone with Alex anyways." Karl teases. 

"Hey! Not cool man, you know I'm sensitive!" Alex says, chasing Karl out of the room. 

They laugh, both still filled with surprise. Still looking in every corner of the room, fully embracing their new home. Their bodies clash once again, grasping onto each other. They stand there silent for a moment, both slightly overwhelmed, using each other to calm down. 

"We need to get our stuff," George says, words muffled by Clay's soft shirt.

Clay makes a noise of agreement. They peel away from each other, a smile plastered on their faces. Lacing their hands they walk out of their room, only to see Karl being beat with a pillow. 

Rolling their eyes, they walk back to their car. Unlocking it, they start grabbing the contents from inside. 

"Thank you, love," George says. 

"For what?" Clay says, taken back by the name. 

"You've never broken a promise," George starts, his eye swelling. "You promised that you'd keep me safe, you did. Promised to find us a place, you did. You drove us here, you did all of this." 

"George-" 

"I love you, Clay, I do. You know that, right?" 

"Of course I know," Clay says, smiling. "Don't cry, darling, save those tears for later." 

"You're so annoying" George huffs, hugging a bag to his chest. Gathering everything taking a short time, running quickly into the house. Alex was still running around screaming some kind of song, Karl trailing close behind. Walking into their room, Clay starts to unpack. 

"I'm gonna get some fresh air," George says, quickly assuring Clay that everything is okay. 

He walks out, sitting on the front steps of the house. Breathing slowly, if adrenaline wasn't flooding through his veins he would've passed out already, exhaustion flooding his veins. Staring at the darkening sky in front of him, he closes his eyes. He usually would've gotten the urge to pray, but the urge never came. A part of him still wants to thank God, but he can't bring himself to do it. They still have so far to go, but they're already so far from where they were. He relishes in the silence until he hears the front door open, looking surprised when he sees Karl walkout. 

"Am I interrupting something?" He asks slowly. 

"No! Come join me," George says with a chuckle. 

"I've heard so much about you, it's still so weird that we've never talked," Karl says, a smile growing on his face. 

"Clay talks about me?" George says, raising his eyebrows. He remembers the day Clay asked if he could tell his friends about their relationship and then giving this quick rant about how they're good people. Of course, he said yes, laughing at the worried tone in Clay's voice. 

"You're all he talks about, George this, George that, we'd always make fun of him." Karl laughs before continuing. "God, You should've seen him on call after you told him you loved him. The man was an absolute maniac" 

George laughs, not noticing the door open behind him. Karl looking behind them, seeing Clay stand in the doorframe, a finger raised to his lips as he silently shushes him. 

"You guys seem close, it's comforting," George says with a hum, cutting the silence. 

"I mean- he is the perfect guy," Karl says, wiggling his eyebrows. 

Another laugh irrupts him, George. His cheeks hurting from smiling, he feels a chest press against his back. 

"Do you think I'm the perfect guy? Georgie." Clay says, stringing out the. 

"You know I do," George says with a sigh, relaxing against the toned chest behind him. 

Karl takes a secret photo of them, this being the first one since they've been able to show their love. 

"C'mon, babe let's go to bed," Clay says, standing up. 

"Babe," George mutters, rolling his eyes as Clay playfully shoves his shoulder. Passing a passed- out Alex on the couch, they whisper their goodnights. Making their way into their room, they practically flop onto the bed. Holding his arms out, Clay lays on his chest. Running his hand through sandy hair, slightly scratching Clay's scalp. 

"Can you believe we did it?" Clay says softly into George's chest. 

"With you, I can do anything," George whispers. 

"You think?" Clay asks quietly. 

"I know." George sighs out, intertwining their hands. 

"Do you think we'll ever talk to them again?" Clay says, a hint of worry in his voice. 

"If I'm being honest, yes, but that's for when it happens." George starts. "All I know is that I'm here with you, and that's all that matters." 

He feels a warm smile against his chest, he feels so at home. Home truly is where the heart is, and his heart is with Clay. 

"Is this our happy ending to our tragic love story?" 

"This is very far from the end," George says, his lips making contact with Clay's forehead. 

"I love you," Clay says, cheek pressed against a rough collarbone 

"I love you too," George says. 

Living in the moment, they both let sleep take over their tired bodies.

Don't forgive me father, even if I have sinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading !! comments always mean so much so thank you for leaving them, if its bad please tell me !!


	12. A/N (update!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I updated/edited the chapters! :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you!

(NEW A/N! wanted to reupload this part since i’ve updated some of the chapters, better grammar, added some different stuff (no major changes!) ily ! back to what i said before 

Hi! So I decided to not continue the epilogue :( I’m gonna turn it into a one-shot at one point, but I did promise to de-anon, (or whatever it’s called). So here it is! I’m going to link hotlines here in case anyone is going through this/how I've written them to feel.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255

The Trevor Project: 866-488-7386

National Alliance on Mental Illness: 1-800-950-6264

Childhelp National Child Abuse Hotline Call 1-800-422-4453

National Runaway Safeline Call 1-800-786-2929

If you know someone/is someone going through this don’t be afraid to reach out, always follow your gut. Don’t feel pressured to reach out. My DMs are always open, (my Twitter is @/imallergictoant because I'm allergic to ants.)

Stay safe, I love you, and trust me when I say, you have not sinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you! ily.

**Author's Note:**

> this will be multi chaptered!! upload time not known because writing has to be done in secret, hopefully a week/two time !! 
> 
> thank you for reading !!


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